


The distance between us sharpens me like a knife

by crookedspoon



Series: SladeRobin Week [3]
Category: DCU
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dick Grayson, Face Slapping, M/M, Not Happy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Sexual Abuse, Triggers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 21:43:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17231726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: When Jason picked out an adult movie for them to watch, he couldn't have known that it would trigger Dick.





	The distance between us sharpens me like a knife

**Author's Note:**

> Very late entry for "Hostage" at sladerobinweek 2018. This is not a happy fic, nor will it be. You have been warned <3
> 
> Okay, whoops, that got quite a tad darker at the end than I was anticipating. Hope y'all enjoy the pain anyway!
> 
> Shoutout to [PleasantlyCasualStrawberry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PleasantlyCasualStrawberry) and [LullabyDance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LullabyDance) for talking this idea over with me once upon a time, and to [Neurotoxia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neurotoxia) for helping me finalise the outline.

Dick nearly upsets the popcorn bowl he's holding when Jason sinks to the floor and spreads Dick's knees wide to accommodate him between them.

Dick also very nearly whines. It's the combination of Jason's size that never fails to make him feel small in all the good ways, and the sensation of his palms running over Dick's thighs. Dick has to set his popcorn bowl aside, because he might drop it any second now under the weight of Jason's gaze. But not before stealing another few popped kernels into his mouth.

He doesn't chew them so much as liquefy them on his tongue, because his teeth clench when Jason peels his track pants away from his half-hard erection. The teasing he's been subjected to all evening is starting to catch up with him.

He still can't believe he let himself be talked into this. 

Or let himself be talked over. He'd had his opinion, but once the opportunity had presented itself to Jason, none of Dick's protests could sway him.

"We've got to get this," Jason had said, presenting him with a DVD that made Dick's eyes bug out of his head.

"Oh no, we don't."

He'd felt the need to cover it, for decency's sake. Not that anyone observing them would have been able to guess at the exact reason he did so; they'd probably just think him prudish. Which is a hilarious thought in its own right but Dick wasn't in the mood to laugh about it.

Until then, he'd lived in blissful ignorance of this sort of thing, although it should come as no surprise to learn it exists. He's aware of what they say about him online, or even behind his back, what they say about all of them, but he seems to be the topic of conversation nine times out of ten when it takes a prurient turn. He's both flattered and weirded out by this. The mere fact of this DVD, however, takes lusting over him to a whole new level.

"Where's your adventurousness, boy wonder?" Jason had asked as he snatched it back.

"I must have left it at the door. I promise it'll return the moment we get out of here." 

"Aw, are you uncomfortable in the Adult Movie section?"

"What? No, that's not it."

"You so are. That's adorable. Never thought I'd see you blush like this. After all that you'd let me do to you."

Jason's voice dropped, like, an octave lower when he said that and Dick had to walk out before he threw Jason against the nearest shelf to make out with him. Anything, so he wouldn't have had to hear him talk like that and face how hot it made him. 

Jason caught up with him, but not before checking out the DVD.

"Really?" Dick asked when Jason tossed it in his lap. He felt vaguely uncomfortable staring at the cover, which features a guy in a Nightwing costume with his leg thrown around another guy in Red Hood gear, who is grabbing his ass. 

"Come on, someone went through the trouble of producing a film about us, the least we can do is watch it."

"The _least_ we can do is not watch it, you mean."

Or perhaps what Dick was feeling was the uncomfortable tightness in his jeans. He's not really used to wearing streetwear anymore. It's like he's running around in a disguise and Nightwing is his real persona. Perhaps that is why he felt vaguely offended. Because someone else was stealing his gig and making a profit out of it by turning it into an X-rated movie.

Dick's head falls against the back of the couch and his fingers claw into the cushions on either side of him when Jason's hot mouth engulfs him. 

He's hard in an instant, fingers tangling into Jason's hair and heat pooling low in his groin. His spine arches and it takes a considerate amount of effort to roll his head off the backrest again so he can admire Jason as he's going down on him. Because Jason is beautiful with his eyes and his mouth full of Dick, and Dick cherishes the sight.

On the screen, Nightwang and Red Hood are trading cheesy pickup lines, even as they're crowding against each other without respect for personal space. In a way, it reminds him of their own awkward and not at all sexy start, as they were figuring out how to talk to each other without giving too much away.

Dick is fairly certain he didn't drop this quickly to his knees in front of Jason, but he might be misremembering things to make himself look more steadfast.

He breathes a faint laugh. He's not capable of anything more than faintness as Jason is working him over, tongue rolling against his pulsing, hard length and drawing embarrassingly high-pitched noises out of Dick.

"I thought you wanted to watch this," he says, but most of it gets lost in a hitched moan as Jason's lips play with his foreskin.

"I think I prefer watching you fall apart." Jason's breath is hot against Dick's sensitive tip and it does feel like that's what he's doing, falling apart, because Jason makes him, because he makes it safe and would never let him crash. "We can always catch the rest later."

"Like watching me is such a novelty."

Jason hums around him, the vibrations of which strike Dick at his very center, before pulling off again with a grin. His lips are wet, his eyes hazy. "Doesn't have to be if I can't get enough of it."

"You're too good to me," Dick murmurs, brushing Jason's hair behind his ear.

He can't describe in words how much he loves this boy. And he still thinks of him as a boy, despite his frame, precisely because he is so good to him. Because he fills his heart until it overflows with sentiment.

Jason's eyelids droop as he leans into Dick's touch. His own touch leaves off abruptly then, his strong hand curled loosely around the base of Dick's erection, but not moving any longer. His eyes are boring into Dick's own.

"Nothing," he says, and the earnestness in his voice is shocking, "nothing is too good for you."

Dick stops breathing for a second. "Do you always have to be this intense?" he can't stop himself from asking. Nor from poking Jason's cheek while he's at it.

Jason snaps his teeth at Dick's index finger and throws him one of his shit-eating grins. "Gets you off, doesn't it?"

"Not without a little help," he says, lifting his hips off the cough to chase the friction of Jason's fingers around his cock, although he knows what he said is a lie. Jason could probably make him come just by looking at him like he just did, all raw emotion, all pretense gone. Dick shudders.

Jason must have seen the unbridled want in Dick's eyes, because he groans, dips his head and takes Dick into his mouth again as if that would shield him from Dick's burning gaze. Jason's hands are hot on Dick's bare ass when he grabs it and pulls it toward the edge of the couch. Dick's back slides down to an uncomfortable angle, but he doesn't really notice because Jason slides him all the way into his throat. 

Dick cries out when Jason swallows around him, scorching, wet, and so tight Dick's knee jerks against the coffee table. Their drinks quake inside their glasses but don't fall over. Dick doesn't think he could have stopped Jason until he was done and the floor a sticky mess because of his soda.

 _"Don't fight it, boy,"_ a rough voice says from the TV and suddenly Dick stops breathing.

The colors on the screen are muted and dark to create ambience, from the bare gray walls in the background, over the black-and-blue uniform his movie counterpart is wearing, to the mahogany desk he's tied to. Perhaps that is what makes the orange pop out despite the gloomy lighting.

It's not even the correct shade of orange, and yet Dick's skin crawls.

Suddenly Dick is not here with Jason anymore. Suddenly he _is_ his counterpart, ass on display and straining to be touched, moaning like a two-bit whore for a man he should be fighting, not encouraging in this way.

He can feel slick fingers fondling him, rubbing, teasing, never giving him more than a hint of what he needs until he begs for it, and even then they venture slowly, torturously, never rushing, never _pushing_ more than he can handle.

"Dick? Dick, are you all right?"

Dick whimpers.

He's not all right – can't be, not when he... not when he...

Dick notices he's breathing again and it's coming out in ragged bursts. Jason is still kneeling in front of him but his expression has warped into one of concern. His hands are warm around Dick's, but Dick can't stand the touch, he doesn't deserve it.

_I can make this good for you._

He rips his hands away and covers himself, trying to curl away from Jason, trying to disappear from view.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

_It's easier if you don't fight it, little birdie._

Jason reaches out gingerly, but Dick recoils. He can't let Jason touch him, how could he ever let him touch him? He's disgusting. He's toxic and greedy, and doesn't deserve the warmth, the reassurance of Jason's touch, even though he really needs it.

Jason's head whips around to look at the TV, and he curses up a storm.

On the screen, a figure who looks dangerously like Deathstroke the Terminator is pounding into a bound Nightwing-lookalike, who writhes and groans so prettily, who enjoys being tied up and made to take it.

"Fuck, Dickie, what did he do to you?"

_Attaboy, I knew you'd come around._

When Dick opens his mouth to speak, he doesn't recognize the pathetic whine that comes out as his own voice.

"He... I. I can't. Jason, I can't."

"Hey, that's all right," Jason says, and he envelops Dick into a hug. "I didn't mean to push you. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. Just know that I'll listen if that's what you need."

Jason feels so good and warm and solid against Dick and Dick doesn't deserve any of it, but he rests his head on Jason's shoulder anyway and digs his fingers into the back of his shirt and simply breathes him in, because that's how selfish he is.

Jason rubs his back and bleeds some of the tension from him, but Jason is too good to him and Dick can't let him think that he deserves any of this.

"He made me like it," he hiccups against Jason's neck, bracing himself for the impact.

"What?"

"That's the worst of it," Dick's voice breaks again. "Slade. He—he made me like it. He held my friends hostage and he made me like what he did to me."

Jason suddenly grows very still, but he doesn't say anything.

"By the end, I didn't even think of them anymore. All I could think about was how good he made me feel." It hurts Dick to continue, but Jason needs to know how selfish and disgusting Dick is, that he was wrong to place so much trust in him, and that Dick is sorry about all of it. "How much I wanted it."

Jason is trembling against him now, and Dick expects him to shove him off, to tell Dick how he really feels about him, how _he_ would never have been so weak – so fucked up – as to derive pleasure from a situation he'd been forced into. How he's not worthy of the Bat-symbol, or his love.

Dick needs to hear him say these things, needs to hear them shouted at him, needs his anger thrown at him, because it's nothing less than he deserves.

But Jason does none of these things. He just hugs Dick tighter.

"None of this is your fault," he says through clenched teeth. He's shaking with anger, but he's not letting Dick have it. "You hear me? None of it. You had no choice."

Dick wants to say that he had every choice not to like it, that he chose not to there but to like it instead, that he forgot about his friends and their fear because Slade made him feel good, but he knows the stubborn set in Jason's jaw and he knows Jason has made up his mind and nothing would make him change it now.

Jason's hands are firm on his shoulders as he eases Dick out of their embrace to look him in the eyes.

"Tell me what you need," he says. "Tell me how I can help. _If_ I can help. I know I can't fix this and that there's not much I can offer, but I... I need you to know that I'm here for you."

Dick shouldn't, but he kisses Jason to stop his heart from aching.

He pours all he has into the kiss, all the pain and the denial and the emptiness. He needs it to stop. He needs Jason to make it stop.

Jason squawks when Dick's hand slips behind his waistband. "Woah, slow down there—"

"Fuck me," Dick says.

"What?"

"Fuck me, Jason. I need it."

"Are you sure?"

Dick nods and kisses Jason again, and this time, Jason lets him slide his fingers around his length.

"Full disclosure: I don't feel entirely comfortable about this." Jason bites back a moan. "It's like I'm taking advantage of you in your state."

"You're not," Dick says simply. "I want this. Please."

"At least," Jason breathes out sharply. "At least let's go to the bedroom."

"Okay," he agrees, his voice not all there anymore.

Dick feel as though moving through jelly when he pushes himself off the couch, and he has no instinct left to catch the bowl of popcorn before it upends onto the floor and spills its contents everywhere. He has just enough presence of mind to step around it, to fight his way forward, and to pull Jason along.

Dick's world has burned away to the heaviness in his limbs, the darkness in his heart, and the warmth of Jason's hand in his own,keeping him together.

* * *

Jason is going to kill that bastard. Slowly. With his own sword. And he's going to enjoy doing it – fuck Batman and his code. This is about Dick and what Slade had done to him, and Jason is going to make sure he regrets every second he ever so much as looked at Dick.

But Dick needs him now, and Dick always comes first. So Jason shelves his revenge fantasies for later.

Dick is kissing him again, with a single-minded determination to get him into bed. An hour ago, Jason would have jumped at the chance. Now, he doesn't feel right about it.

Part of him thinks this is all his fault. If he hadn't insisted they borrow this movie, Dick would never have been triggered, and they could have spent the nice, quiet evening he had promised Dick. But he hates himself as soon as he thinks it. Dick has been carrying this heavy load with him all this time, and Jason had no idea. What the fuck kind of boyfriend does that make him?

Guilt etches itself along his ribcage as Dick shucks off their clothes and pushes him onto the bed. Generally, this kind of assertiveness turns him on like nothing else, but it falls flat now. Jason can't get into the mood from before, before he knew about what happened to Dick.

Fuck, there that thought is again. It's like he's blaming Dick for killing his boner.

Dick frowns down at Jason's flaccid cock as well, as if he's disappointed it's not already standing at attention. Or maybe Jason is reading his own thoughts in Dick's eyes, because Dick said he needs this and Jason wants to provide, if it helps Dick at all.

"Sorry. I just," Jason sits up again and runs his fingers through his hair. "How do you want this?"

"You. On top." Dick settles on his back like a fucking prize dish on a platter, and watches Jason's hand reach for the nightstand. "No lube. Don't need it."

Jason huffs. "Yeah, sweetheart, but I do."

He jerks himself quickly as he shuffles between Dick's legs. Dick is palming his own half-hard cock, and Jason is torn between want and sadness. He shakes it off as soon as it forms, because sadness is not what Dick needs right now.

He probes Dick's hole with lubed-up fingers and it's good to feel Dick squirm against them. Makes him feel less dead inside.

"Come on, Jason," Dick says as Jason pushes one finger inside. "Don't tease me."

It's not exactly Jason's intention to do so, but Dick grips his second finger tight and he doesn't want to rush a third in before Dick hasn't adjusted.

But Dick seems hellbent on rushing this. He grabs Jason's wrist and shoves his fingers inside to the last knuckle. 

"Please, Jason, just fuck me already," he whines. "I need this to hurt." 

"Okay. Okay, okay, okay," Jason breathes, more to reassure himself that this is the right thing to do.

Dick nods his encouragement when Jason lines himself up and tries to force his way inside. Dick is tight, so tight, and Jason doesn't think he can do this. 

"Yeah," Dick groans, "this is good. Keep going. Don't stop."

Jason kisses Dick's forehead, his temple, cheeks and nose, as he rocks into him, gliding deeper little by little.

Dick's breathing is labored against him, but otherwise he's so quiet, and it disturbs Jason, because this is so different from their usual lovemaking. Dick is never quiet, even when they're not lobbing banter back and forth, even when they're grinding against each other sleep-warm and practically boneless, even when he's angry with Jason for having left on another fool-hardy quest that could cost him life and limb without telling him about the dangers first.

This is all Slade's fault. Jason hates him for making a sick game out of playing Dick's friends against him, and he's going to make that bastard pay. No one gets away with hurting Dick.

What he wouldn't give to have Slade at his mercy right now. He can hardly choose between all the different methods of torture he's picked up along the years. He'll start with the lighter ones, the ones that Slade is going to survive thanks to his freakish healing factor.

Jason can't wait to ram a fucking knife in his throat.

Beneath him, Dick moans and clutches at Jason's back. 

Jason freezes, afraid he accidentally did something wrong.

Dick nudges his hips against Jason's. "Like that. Do that again."

A deep flush rises to Jason's face as he scrambles to reconstruct what he did just now that Dick liked so much. He's been too caught up cutting up Slade in his mind to focus on what _Dick_ needs right now. While he wasn't paying attention, he's forced himself all the way inside, because his hips are flush with Dick's now. Tentatively, he pulls back a little and thrusts in again.

Dick licks his lips, like he's trying to concentrate. "Harder."

And then it hits Jason.

Ignoring the flip of his stomach, he gathers all his anger and lets himself feel _that_ instead of his useless guilt, lets himself feel the force of the imagined blade ripping through Slade's torso. And he fucks into Dick.

Dick throws his head back and moans again, digging his nails into Jason's shoulder and grabbing a fistful of hair. "Yes. Please. More."

Jason ignores how painfully tight Dick is, how not even the lube can take the edge of that much friction, and instead he focuses on Dick and his anger that lets him hurt Dick just like he needs it. Something must be wrong with Jason's head to think Dick is beautiful even broken like this, with his eyes dark and heavy, his mouth parted and his hips canted to meet him thrust for thrust. His knitted brows speak of pain, some of which Jason is contributing.

Jason is holding down Dick's shoulders now as he fucks him open, and Dick is gripping the sheets on either side of his head, baring his throat as if inviting Jason to bite it.

He doesn't know what overcomes him when he does, when his teeth sink into the sensitive skin at the base of Dick's neck, where it would be anyone's guess as to whether or not it's going to show beneath Nightwing's collar. Perhaps it's a primal need to mark him, to stake a claim to him and let everyone know he's taken, or perhaps it's just a manifestation of the anger he can't control, and why it's such a goddamn shit idea to let himself go there.

Dick's resulting cry goes straight to his cock, and Dick's legs wrap around Jason's waist and push him deeper.

"Fuck. Dickie. I can't—"

"Slap me," Dick says all of a sudden.

Jason shakes his head, as if making sure he heard right, and punches the mattress next to Dick's head. "Don't ask that of me."

"Slap me, Jason. Please." Dick looks up at him with large, beseeching eyes. "I need to hurt."

Jason grimaces as he strokes Dick's cheek before placing a soft kiss on it. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

He doesn't need to take a big swing to make this hurt, and he knows that Dick has taken worse, even from him, but the sound his palm makes as it connects is sickening nonetheless. The grunt coming from Dick, however, seems to make up for that. He smacks Dick again and his cock _pulses_ when he hears that cut-off groan from Dick.

It's easier to take Dick's cue after that. He touches his cheek gingerly from time to time, as if in awe of the sting Jason's placed there, but when his eyes gaze into Jason's again, they're always hungry for more.

Jason hates how easy this is, how much he enjoys beating on his boyfriend like this, fucking him like he's just another body to him, like it's nothing more than power play. He's never wanted to become that person, because he's known people like this all his life, and they're all scum. He wanted to be better than that. He wanted to prove to the world that it was wrong about him. That he could be more.

Apparently, it had been right all along. This is in Jason's bones. This is who he is. He'll never be better.

With that realization, he comes deep inside Dick, jerking into him until he's empty and the angers that's driven him settles again.

He collapses onto Dick, and a sinking feeling takes hold of him as Dick's head rolls against his limply. He doesn't say anything, doesn't move, and Jason is horrified of himself. He hadn't even noticed that Dick passed out while he was still using him.

As if swatted on his nose, Jason crawls back on his haunches and he flinches when his cock slips out of Dick. Dick, meanwhile, doesn't stir. His own cock lies spent against his thigh, and there's a translucent mess on his stomach. His face, however, is what affects Jason the most. It's slack and peaceful now, but his cheek is puffy and red, and there's no downplaying what he did.

Averting his eyes, Jason rips a cigarette from the packet he keeps in his bedside drawer for emergencies and stalks out onto the tiny balcony naked and unwashed. The first drag hurts in his lungs, but it's welcome, he's earned that.

His palm smarts. He watches his fingers clench and unclench. He can still make a fist, but not without the knowledge of why it feels off. As if that detail really matters. It's not like he could _forget._

He can still make a fist, period. _That's_ all that matters. Because he's going to need it very soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Hold Me Tight Or Don't" by Fall Out Boy.
> 
> Basically, I got the idea for this chapter from a kink-meme fill in which Dick and Jason are watching a porno starring guys dressed up as them and featuring a guy dressed up as Slade. 'What a wasted opportunity,' I thought and it all went downhill from there.


End file.
